


Attraction of Lost Treasures

by InudaTheFox



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Also Jenny, Also Steven came back after a year and a half so hes almost nineteen, And yes u can change them but i refuse to write anything else, Connie is seventeen and so is Reader, Enjoy my trash i refuse to let the SU fandom die, F/F, F/M, Is reader OP? Probably but she dont know shit so its okay, Multi, Nobody writes about the cool kids anymore so imma do it myself u cowards, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader doesnt like gems much but too bad bitch thats all ur love interests >:3, Reader doesnt wanna be here but SC is here, Reader is a pastime gardener, Reader is half gem, Reader's family has names, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, STEVEN'S AN ASSHOLE AT THE BEGINNING IM SORRY, Shes a watermelon tourmaline, Sour Cream is my fav and u can tell, and thats the only reason why she isnt fleeing the country lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InudaTheFox/pseuds/InudaTheFox
Summary: (Y/n) (L/n) isn't a normal girl by ANY standard.She can control the earth, heals and grows plants, is super fast and durable, mom's a literal rock with a metaphorical brain, and has a rectangular gem on her neck.So, no, she is DEFINITELY not normal. But that seemingly all changes when she runs into Steven Universe upon moving into the neighborhood beside Little Homeworld.It isn't the best impression, but with the help of her good friend Sour Cream, she's sure she can handle anything.Even if it's series of space rocks with too many problems and not enough mass.
Relationships: Amethyst (Steven Universe)/Reader, Amethyst/Garnet/Pearl/Reader (Steven Universe), Bismuth (Steven Universe)/Reader, Blue Diamond (Steven Universe)/Reader, Blue Diamond's Pearl/Reader (Steven Universe), Blue Diamond/White Diamond/Yellow Diamond (Steven Universe)/Reader, Buck Dewey/Reader, Connie Maheswaran & Reader, Garnet (Steven Universe)/Reader, Jasper (Steven Universe)/Reader, Jenny Pizza & Kiki Pizza, Jenny Pizza/Reader, Lapis Lazuli (Steven Universe)/Reader, Lars Barriga/Reader, Pearl (Steven Universe)/Reader, Peridot (Steven Universe)/Reader, Pink Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe)/Reader, Ruby (Steven Universe)/Sapphire (Steven Universe)/Reader, Sour Cream (Steven Universe)/Reader, Spinel (Steven Universe) & Reader, Spinel (Steven Universe)/Reader, Steven Universe/Reader, White Diamond (Steven Universe)/Reader, White Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe)/Reader, Yellow Diamond (Steven Universe)/Reader, Yellow Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe)/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 137





	1. Beginning to the End

You really don’t know how you went from living in Vancouver- one of the largest cities in fucking _Washington,_ mind you- to Beach City in fucking _Delmarva,_ one of the states with the _least population possible._

Even Empire City only has a little over eleven thousand people, and it’s the fucking _capital_ for heaven’s sake!

You’d rather stay in the city, dammit.

“Ya know sis,” your nine-year old half sister, Minerva- or Minnie, for short- shoots you a smirk from behind her oversized glasses, “pouting all day isn’t going to get your stuff packed, even if you use your powers.”

Huffing, you turn on your side, throwing a flimsy booklet at the child, “I know that _jerkwad!_ I’m just saying that I’d rather stay away from all of that “gem nonsense” they got over there!” Your flounder your hands in response, only getting a quirked eyebrow in return.

“Sis… you realize _you’re_ a gem, right? I mean, you have a tourmaline sticking out the back of your neck after all.”

That… is true. You _are_ a gem- or at least half gem.

Your birth mother, Watermelon Tourmaline- more commonly known as Melon to the community- was an escapee from the war, who moved in with the human race, far, _far_ away from the rest of the rebels known as “The Crystal Gem”. She wrote everything she knew down in a long line of journals- some dating towards her powers and how to use or unlock them, or about Homeworld etiquette, or the Diamonds, or War or…

About her time on earth.

Melon, your beloved mother, met your father and married him, giving birth to you only three years after their first meeting, and just over a year after their wedding. She kept getting new journals, writing down her experiences with dad, or how the pregnancy was going, ectera ectera, on and on.

Then, upon your birth, she vanished, giving up her physical form so that you could exist- a true spark of change lighting up the opportunities that would dictate your life.

That was seventeen years ago, and here you are, a gemling whose… _somewhat_ mastered your powers. And _whoo boy,_ do you have an array of them.

Summoning your magic cards came naturally when you were still a toddler- a destructive one, sure, but a toddler-, and you’ve all but mastered your super speed, winning competition after competition with little more than some slightly enhanced running.

Because of that, you were pretty damn fit (though, you couldn’t throw a proper punch to save your life, which sucked because you had super strength too dammit. But, at least you can play dirty, so you guess it checks out), and if you weren’t running around like a loon, then you were playing in the dirt, mastering your geokinetic abilities, and reviving some of the garden that starts to die away without appropriate care.

You also had an ability to heal all wounds by kissing someone, but you have to kiss them _on the fucking lips._

Uh, _ew,_ no- you’re good.

Plus, it was an “organic only” sort of thing- no healing gems.

Still, other than that and some basic martial arts, you haven’t really touched your powers- not that you really need to, since geokinesis has everything you could want and more, especially since Melon’s journals taught you how to use your powers with the grains in the earth to make a fucking _portal_ to wherever you needed to go (at least you never had to be late for school again)- and don’t plan too, but with your family (you, your _father_ , your bitch of a stepmother, and your half siblings, Minerva and Nicholas) moving to Beach City, you might just have too.

Which sucks, and you don’t want to do it.

The world treats you like a freak well enough, you don’t need anything else to add onto it.

Eyes rolling, you lean up and scoff, “Yeah, make fun of the gem sitting on the back of my neck, why don’t ‘ya? And it’s not sticking out! Its laid sideways into my skin _just fine_ without ‘sticking out’! If it did that, how the fuck would I even sleep?!” Your words did nothing but amuse your sister, and she only shrugs in response.

“ _You’re_ the freaky one here, not me.”

Eyes narrow dangerously at that little _comment,_ and you sit up, plucking the girl from her position, and throwing her into the hall, locking your door with an earth-shattering hiss, cracks trailing up your cream walls, “Watch your tongue, _brat!”_

There’s a loud scoff, and extensive stomping down the steps, probably to go whine to that bitch that your father says to call “mom”.

Pfft, yeah _right_.

Sighing, you shuffle away from the door and pick through the multiple boxes in your room, frowning in thought.

“I don’t understand why those two hate me so much,” you grumble, picking up an old, cracked DS, shaking your head and instead plucking your 3DS from the box, popping it open, “is it because I’m not human? Maybe… is it because of their religion?”

Checking the cartiage, a smile flickers on your face upon seeing “Animal Crossing: New Leaf” splayed out on the black card, and you pop it back in, “Eh, doesn’t matter, just two more years and I can get the fuck out of this house!”

Besides, its not like you’ll ever really run out of money- with your geokinesis, you can find any gem you want of any rarity that you want, as well as ancient or rare artifacts that catch a fortune if sold to the appropriate buyer- to you can move out as soon as your eighteenth birthday!

You’ve sold three full rubies and two beryl, as well as a beautiful, old, morganite and rose gold brooch, and earned $37’600 dollars that you’ve long since stored away in a secret box under your floorboards. Adding onto the allowance that your father gives you- even though you told him that you make your own money through scrounging around, as well as your job, he still makes you take it- weekly (that being $150) since you were like, what? Eight? Something like that.

That’s of course not counting the job you work out- or, rather, _used_ to work at- five days a week for the past three years.

In other words, you’re going to find a nice place, bribe the owners, and _get the fuck out of there_ when you turn legal age.

And, thank the heavens, that’s only a year from now, since you recently just turned seventeen.

Shifting and standing to your full height, you shuffle back towards your bed and flop down on it, the constant clicking of buttons soothing your frizzled nerves enough to not commit mass murder.

**_“[Welcome back, mayor!]”_ **

Cracking a smile at the cute and cozy game, and at the retriever known as Isabella, you play well into the night, casually ignoring the screams and banging on your door.

You’ll deal with it tomorrow.

\---

**_[Two Weeks Later]_ **

Popping another cardboard box from the trunk of the moving van onto the gravel, you wipe your eyebrow and study the trunk again, heaving a sigh at the stack of boxes littering the back. You dread when the moving truck gets here- that’ll be a literal _nightmare._

“Hey, you new?”

Startling, you whirl around, hair whipping you in the face, to face the male standing behind you, eyes wide in surprise, unknowingly studying him.

He had fair skin, a surprise when living in an area that was a _fucking beach,_ with curly, poofy black- or maybe they were just a very dark brown? You don’t know- locks, some straying over his forehead and ears, a pink varsity jacket with white pockets, seams, and cuffs, rolled up jeans, pink flip-flops, and a black T-shirt with a giant yellow star printed onto it.

The most striking feature about this shockingly handsome man?

His colony-pink eyes.

His colony-pink eyes with _diamond_ pupils.

You pale drastically, practically turning into a ghost, _‘Oh dear god, first hour in this damned city and I’ve already ran into STEVEN FUCKING UNIVERSE?! Sweet lord, please save my soul….’_

Steven Universe- because you recognize those eyes _anywhere-_ stares at you, worried, “Hey, are you alright miss?”

Blinking, you mentally kick yourself and plaster on a smile, ignoring the part of you that recoils from such an action, “Oh yes, I’m fine, just a tad tired is all! And, yeah, I’m new, how’d you notice?”

He only quirks an eyebrow, obviously in disbelief at the mere assumption that he was stupid enough _not_ to notice the van with a shit ton of boxes inside of it being put on the ground, “Uh, the _car?”_

_‘Please kill me now,’_ “Oh, ah, sorry- my brain isn't real working, ehehe…”

A long silence stretches, and you cringe at your own insocialbility- geez, no fucking _wonder_ you didn’t have any friends, this is just pathetic on a molecular level.

Your mother’s probably shaking her head at you from inside her, now your, gem.

Sighing, you stretch out a hand, smile falling into a semi-nervous one instead of the mask you put on before, “I’m (Y/n) (L/n), junior in highschool. You?”

The male glances down at the outstretched hand, and snorts loudly, only raising your anxiety, “Oh, you’re even worse at social interactions than I am, and I’m _bad!”_ He laughs, and something pangs against your heart at the complete disregard for your feelings.

Wow, and you thought _humans_ were bad…

Steven glances up at you, and startles at the expression you had- whatever it was- and rubs the back of his head sheepishly, cheeks pinkening, “Uh… sorry about that, it’s just kinda funny to see someone so bad at interactions,” his nervous grin does nothing but upset you more, and with a scoff, you pick up a stray box, stomping towards your new two-story home (it had five bedrooms total, which meant you got your own personal space- thank _god_ ).

He jolts, rushing towards you, “H-Hey, wait a minute, I’m sorry! That was rude of me! I didn’t mean t-!”

With a snarl, you slam the door shut with your foot, rattling the windows.

“GIRL! IF THAT WAS YOU, SO HELP ME GOD, I’LL BEAT YOU!” The cry from the woman only makes your irritation rise, so you stomp your foot, rattling the household once more.

“OH PUT A SOCK IN IT AND DROP DEAD, YOU OLD HAG!” You scream, dropping the box on the counter and heading towards your room, “AND DON’T FUCKING BOTHER ME, YOU PRE-PAID, NORWEGIAN, COCKBLOCKER HUSSIE!”

“HOW DARE YOU,” stompings heard down the steps, and Tabitha- your “step mother”- tries to kick your new door, only you to slide a small string of wire from beneath your door, and activate your powers enough that the alloy- one of the _many_ forms of ‘earth’ you can control- latches onto her legs, tying her up. From there, you have the wire drag her up the stairs, smacking her head against each one, and tied the ends around her doorknob.

Throughout the entire thing, Tabitha is screaming her lungs out, and you abstractly wonder if she can actually suffocate herself from screaming too much.

You _genuinely_ hope the answer is yes.

Nicholas (more commonly known as “Nick” to family and friends), your five-year old brother, pops his head out the room beside yours, glancing at the screaming woman being dragged upstairs by a piece of wire, and winces.

“...Okay, why’re you mad?”

“Other than at that bitch you call your mother?” Your snark doesn’t faze the child at all- he grew up in the big city, he’s seen and heard worse. Instead, he only rolls his eyes.

“She’s _always_ an issue. Now, _who_ the _hell_ pissed you off?”

You should probably stop swearing around him, but it amuses you when he turns his own snark on others his age, and especially at his sister. In other words, free entertainment just for teaching the little fucker some goddamn “manners”- ones that land him in trouble, to your amusement.

But, he wouldn’t let the question let up until you answer- smart little asshole, this one is.

You blame dad.

“Steven Universe,” you grumble, leaning against the doorway, “he was a total asshole, even if he didn’t mean it.”

Nick cringes at that, “Yikes! Are you okay?”

Nodding, you gesture the boy towards you and head inside your barebones room, which only carries your futon (bed’s in the truck, and _that_ won’t be here for another few days), laptop, consoles, phone, and mini fridge. Opening the panel, you pluck out three bars of chocolate and hand them to the boy, “You saw nothing.”

He pockets them, smiling innocently, hands clasped together- the picture of true innocence, “Of course not, big sister! I haven’t seen a thing!”

If you didn’t know him better, you would’ve thought he was actually telling the truth.

But, you do, and your family doesn’t.

Patting his head, you grin widely, canines showing, “Good boy! Now get the fuck out of my room, you little shitfuck!”

Nick salutes with a smug smile, scampering out the room like a puppy running away from its owner, chocolates in hand, whistling a little tune as he did so.

Your grin softens into a smile, staring at the spot that once occupied the only other member of your family that you actually _liked,_ _‘Kid’s gonna be a politician, mark my words… maybe I should start a betting pool…’_

Now _there’s_ an idea!

Shaking your head, you move towards your bed and flop onto it, pulling your phone out of your pocket, messaging an online pal of yours named Sour Cream.

**_You:_ ** _So I’m offically in Beach City, and I already hate Steven Universe._

 **_You:_ ** _officially* my bad_

_??? What did he even do???_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_ ** _So like_

 **_You:_ ** _I was outside getting the boxes out of the car, right??_

_Okay?_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_ ** _and, he startles me- DOESN’T EVEN APOLOGIZE MIND YOU- and laughs at me when I introduce myself and get nervous_

 **_You:_ ** _AND THEN_

 **_You:_ ** _HE FUCKING GOES_

 **_You:_ ** _“oh, you’re worse than I am at interacting, and I’m_ **_bad_ ** _”_

 **_You:_ ** _BITCH DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK???_

 **_You:_ ** _so i left and slammed the door in his face >:( _

_Oh talk about big yikes!_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_Are you like_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_Okay???_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_ ** _in all honesty, no_

 **_You:_ ** _but like_

 **_You:_ ** _I’ve just kinda stopped caring at this point_

_Oh_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_Do you want me to like_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_Talk to him or somthin???_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_ ** _No_

_Ah_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_So do you, like_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_Wanna hang out while you’re here???_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_Its not even noon yet_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_ ** _…_

 **_You:_ ** _ya know what?_

 **_You:_ ** _sure, why the fuck not_

**_You:_ ** _name the place_

_Are you like??? Hungry???_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_ ** _the fuk kinda question is that_

 **_You:_ ** _i’m_ **_always_ ** _hungry my dude_

_How does pizza sound?_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

_Fish stew pizza opens in five_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_ ** _you speaking my language my dude_

 **_You:_ ** _See you in fifteen then?_

_Yep_ **_:DJ-Cream_ **

**_You:_** _K SC ttyl_

Standing up, you rush to your bathroom- there’s a master bathroom connected to the master bedroom, another smaller bathroom upstairs, and two downstairs. Apparently there’s another in the basement that your family’s going to turn into a washing room or something- and pop open your makeup kit sitting on the sink, checking your face while you do so.

_‘No zits,’_ you smile, _‘that’s good, so no need for foundation or concealer! Now… mascara? Hmm… sure, maybe some soft power for a blush, and lipstick? Nah, the lipstick is too much… just lip gloss then?’_ Your smile only widens, _‘Yeah, that’ll work!’_

Grabbing your black mascara bottle, you unscrew the tip and carefully do your lashes, taking time to make sure that it didn’t get messed up, because it's annoying enough to do it once, you refuse to do it twice. Then you power your cheeks with a very light power, and slip on a light, glossy layer of pink lip balm, making your lips seem fuller. Popping the cap closed, you fix your bun, throw on some deodorant, double check your outfit, and grab your brown leather, gold chain, quilted purse.

Just to make sure, you pull out your wallet and count, double-checking your phone as you do so.

“Oh, I still have eight minutes, nice,” breathing a sigh of relief, you slip your samsung galaxy into the purse and grab your wallet, running through the various bills.

“Twenty, seventy, one hundred, one-fifty, two hundred, two-twenty, two-forty, two-fifty, three hundred, four hundred, four-fifty, five-fifty, six hundred,” you quietly count the various twenties, fifties, hundreds and ten dollar bills, “Okay, yeah, I think I have enough… this should last me the day, shouldn’t it? At least, I hope it does…”

You have no idea how expensive things are here, so you can only hope this is enough so that you can spend the day with Sour Cream.

Making sure you have your driver’s license, you snap your wallet closed, pop it in your purse, and head outside, grabbing your car keys along the way. Heading towards your red honda fit, you slide into the leather seats, carefully making sure you don’t stick to the leather, turn on the engine and AC, and pull out of the driveway, heading down the road.

You pass Little Homeworld, a new addition added just two years ago, and it apparently just had its fourth class graduates- you suppose it was a good idea to integrate humans and gems together after all these centuries kept apart.

You just don’t know how the rest of the world is going to act- Sour Cream _has_ told you that Beach City is kinda strange with its mental compass of what’s weird or not.

Thinking back on his actual _birth_ name- Scallion Allium- you suppose that makes sense.

Entering the heart of Beach City, you park in a shaded area in the parking lot beside the boardwalk, and step out your car, putting on some shades so you don’t go fucking blind from the bright, beaming sun.

Incidentally, because of this, you don’t notice the stares of humans and gems around you.

Slinging your purse over your shoulder, you calmly strut past the various gems of all kinds- rubies, pearls, quartzes (you’re pretty sure you saw an emerald too, but you _could_ be wrong)- and eye the various shops along the wooded path.

_‘Funland arcade… Beach Citywalk Fries… ah, Fish Stew Pizza!’_ Beaming at the quaint little shop, and you skip towards the shop windows, peeking in.

Scallion, more commonly known as Sour Cream, catches you peeking through the window and waves, two girls and guys sitting beside him. Unknowingly, a pang of fear strikes you- he didn’t tell you that there would be other people with you guys!

But… if he was so accepting of you… maybe these four would be too?

Breathing in deeply, you walk inside the pizzeria, sparkling brightly in joy upon seeing your longtime friend of four years sitting there. He gestures you over, beaming, “‘Ey, gemstone! How’re you?”

Smiling, you drape yourself over one of the empty chairs, to the amusement of all watching, “Oh my precious Cream, it was utterly _dreadful_ without you to dwindle the pain! Oh, absolutely a horrendous day my friend! Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous I say!”

The table laughs at your dramatics, an absolutely _gorgeous_ black female with a puffy, black bob hairstyle and large golden earrings grins brightly at you, snickering, “Hey Sour Cream, this is that ‘cute friend’ you were talkin’ about? Geez, I thought you were kidding, but I don’t think you did her justice!”

Nervousness strikes you for a second.

“She’s fucking _hot!”_

Embarrassment floods you like a tidal wave, with your face flushing cherry red at the out of field compliment. Laughing, you properly sit down, setting your purse on the table, hands clasped, “Thank you ms…”

The female waves a hand dismissively, a cocky grin on her face, “Honey, there’s no need for the word ‘ms’! Makes me sound like I’m Nana’s age. Name’s Jenny, cutie- Jenny Pizza.”

Your face lights up, recognizing the name, “Oh, _you’re_ Jenny! Sour Cream talks about you and a guy named Buck a lot, but I didn’t think that you’d be _this_ pretty in person!”

Jenny’s cheeks flush at the genuine admission, smiling, “Oh yeah, _you_ I like! Yo, Sour Cream,” she spins to face your best friend, grinning smugly, “I’m stealing ‘yo gurl.”

“The fuck you are!” He steams, pouting, and the table can’t help but laugh again, “I saw Dumpling first!”

“Dumpling?” Another male, this one pink with skull earrings and pastel, powder-pink fluffy hair, “So you have nicknames for each other now? Heh, and _you_ said you’re not dating!”

Shaking your head, you answer politely, “We’re not, actually. It's just when we first hung out, we went to a chinese restaurant, and well…”

“She ate out the entire shop’s dumplings,” his grin was _anything_ but polite, and you flip him the bird, the table spiraling into a fit of laughter from your meager but effective response.

“Kiss my ass, fucktwit! I was hungry, so what? It's not like we got sued!”

Sour Cream shrugs, smirking, “Only because you apologized so much that they just got annoyed and kicked you out,” his response garners more laughter, and you- not so subtly- kick him from under the table, the feminine shriek sprawling from him garnering a smug smirk.

“Wanna talk anymore shit, SC?”

He rubs his leg, pouting at you, “...No.”

Grinning, you nod, and turn towards the rest of the group, “So… who’re the rest of you, exactly?”

Another black female smiles, her long hair settled along her shoulders, “I’m Kiki! Jenny’s my twin, but we’re, like, _nothing_ alike.”

“Fraternal twins?” You thought they looked pretty similar, all things considered.

Her smile widens, “Something like that!”

“Buck Dewey,” the sunglasses-wearing male answers quietly, “nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Lars,” the pink-skinned male (how can you feel gem powers _around_ him? He feels more human than anything, with enhances, but somehow he also feels dead? He sure as hell isn’t a gem from what you can tell) adds, grinning, “and before you ask, no, I’m not a gem.”

Ah, well, that answered your question, now didn’t it?

Instead of voicing your thoughts, you lean back and grin, “I’m (Y/n) (L/n), a…” Here comes the moment of truth! If they accept you, great! If not… well, you don’t really want to think about that right now, “...half gem.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, before a colossal of noise chatters throughout the shop, all of them seemingly excited at the news.

“So you’re like Steven?” Kiki inquires cheerfully, not even fazed by such a revelation.

You nod, “Yeah, but with a watermelon tourmaline as a mom instead of a rose quartz. Or pink diamond, I don’t know what the fuck he actually is or has.”

“I thought only the crystal gems survived,” Lars mentions, eyebrow quirking, “how did your mom survive being uncorrupted?”

“Watermelon Tourmalines are… well, they’re terraformers,” you inform, pulling off one of your gold bracelets and spinning it midair, “any form of earth, purified or not, we can control- be it raw material, an alloy, a metal, glass, plants, or something similar. Plus, sometimes they come out with really strange extra abilities- some can breath fire, others can teleport. Mom’s was her own brand of portal and pocket dimension creation- sadly, it's not very big. About as big as that one arcade down the boardwalk,” you explain, getting some excited stares, “so mom just hid in hers for a few centuries or something.”

“Was she a part of the diamonds?”

“I mean, yeah? Technically? Tourmalines are supporters, not fighters, strangely enough, so there was never a real… _focus_ on them, I guess. If one _mysteriously_ vanished, nobody would really notice in all honesty… At least, what’s what mom’s journals told me,” you helplessly shrug, a few mummers splayed around the room, but there was nothing more you could really tell them about it.

So, instead, you all order two large pizzas- one fish supreme, the other extra cheese with pepperoni and ham- and somehow get onto the top of sports and personal activities.

“I play percussion in band,” Jenny explains, sipping at her water, “and I know Buck still plays guitar, despite studying for medical school. What about you, (Y/n)?”

Jostling, biting into your pizza slice, you quickly chew and swallow, coughing anxiously into your wrist, “Uh… I… I-I don’t play instruments,” you mutter, pushing a stray strand behind your ear, “I mostly do sports…”

Lars leans closer, “Like what?”

“Things mostly having to do with a lot of running, like track, or soccer. Did karate for a couple months before dropping it,” you shrug, to the amazement of all, “I’m more of a track player though- been doing it since I was a toddler running circles around my old man, and haven’t stopped since. Instead, now, I just run circles around other _players.”_

“So, what,” Buck tilts his head, “do you use your powers when doing it or…?”

You shrug, “I mean, when I was just a little kid? Yeah, I did- a lot, actually. But after reaching nine, and maturing a little bit, I just decided it wasn’t worth it and used my own natural speed to win the races. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still stupidly quick, but I could create a mini hurricane if I used my powers for extended amounts of time, into a circle about… ten feet wide? Maybe fifteen? Something like that.”

There seemed to be collective relief that you didn’t cheat the games, and you only smile knowingly, “Besides, how am I gonna cheat _track?_ Sure, I’m fast, but I’m about as clumsy as a flailing water hose on fire!”

“It's funnier in context when you see her trying to do the hurdles in a race,” Sour Cream quips loudly, “I’ve seen her! The amount of times she tripped and fell on her face is _hysterical_.”

You promptly kick him again, smile twitching in irritation.

This time, he doesn’t even flinch, only grinning smugly, biting into his supreme slice.

“So, (Y/n),” Kiki begins, chewing on a slice of pepperoni, “how long have you known Sour Cream?”

“God, now _that_ I gotta think about…” you glance across the table at your longtime friend, “We met when you were… what? Twelve? Thirteen?”

He nods, “Thirteen. So, yeah, so we’ve known each other six years, because you were eleven back then.”

Jenny leans back in surprise, “No shit! That long? And with all that distance?! How’d you two keep in touch enough to be this close?”  
  


“Discord,” you both reply blandly, to the amusement of all watching, “and skype when we were younger.”

“Damn, y’all are in tune!” Lars whistles, impressed at how well you and Sour Cream know one another, “Is it always like this?”  
  
“Whenever she isn’t a bitch? Yes,” the older male smirks, and you flip him off idly, “Please, I may be a bitch, but at least I grew a pair, _pussy._ How many times did you come crying to me about some asshole talking shit, or Marty?”

He pales, almost sheet-white.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”

The group bark out their laughter, finishing off the pizza- Jenny and Kiki’s jaws collectively drop when you slam a fifty down on the table, despite the pizzas being half off each at only $6.99- and leaving the shop, heading towards the arcade.

“Need me to pay for you, SC?” You wonder, waving your purse, to his amused annoyance.

“Nah Dumpling, I’m good,” Sour Cream pulls out his wallet from his pockets, popping it open and sliding a twenty out from the middle, “I got, like, almost a hundred on me right now. Believe me, I don’t need your money.”

You pout, but end up paying for Kiki instead, saying that you couldn’t let a cute girl pay when you could prevent it.

Jenny immediately starts the waterworks, draping herself over you, “Oh (Y/n), aren’t _I_ cute too? Oh, the betrayal! It stings, like a knife to the heart!” She gasps, leg rising, leaning on your back, _‘defeat’_ clearly written across her face.

“Jenny, sugar, I said ‘cute girls’, not hot ones. But hey, if you want me to pay, I can easily do that.” You shrug, not really carry, despite the smirk on your face- you got plenty of money to waste.

“Split with me?”

“Sure.”

You slam two twenties and a ten dollar bill down, paying for both yourself and Kiki, and splitting the price with Jenny. Your group is given two hundred tokens, to play around with, and you decide to get started.

Getting grouped with Sour Cream and Kiki, you check the various games and spot a reformed, revised classic- space invaders- from the corner of your eye.

And, to your utter joy, it has two player co-op mode!

“Hey guys, how about space invaders?” You point towards the station, your friends staring past you in surprise, “I know we can earn a bunch of tickets off of it!”

The african female frowns thoughtfully, “That wasn’t here a month ago…” 

“Think it came in that giant shipment truck?”

“Probably… but yeah, sure, let's play!”

The trio walks closer, and you decide to let Kiki and SC start off, since they’ve never played. They did fairly well for their first time, in your opinion, getting a high score of 470.

You switch with Sour Cream, popping in three coins, and sitting down, vibrating in excitement, clicking ‘two players’ and ‘start’ with the press of a button. With the words ‘ready… GO!’ on the screen, your controller and fingers go flying back and forth, shooting down layers of enemies one after another.

Sour Cream dies about a minute in, since you're raising the difficulty too fast for him to really comprehend, and by the time you die, you’re on the leaderboard for third place.

**_3’245 Points!_ **

You write in **_‘Dumpling and SC’_** into the box, setting that as your usernames, and grabbing your stack of… you don’t even know, it was just a giant fucking pile of tickets, while Sour Cream and Kiki grab their own stacks, staring at you in amazement.

“(Y/n), I know you have nothing, like, better to do with your time,” he begins, staring blankly at you, “but did you really spend all that time playing _video games?_ ”

Your innocent smile is all he needs as an answer.

Next, you all try skeeball- which, unsurprisingly, you turn out to be _really fucking bad_ at.

Accuracy isn’t your forte.

Still, you walk out with twenty-five tickets, so you _suppose_ it's okay.

Kiki, however, turns out to be an absolute _master_ at skeeball, every ball either going into fifty, twenty or one hundred.

Basketball you were also really bad at, to your anguish and amusement to the duo behind you, and walk out with ten tickets. Sour Cream, to his own smug joy, came out of that game with two hundred more tickets.

So, to get back at him, you head to pacman and play for a good solid ten minutes straight before dying to that _damned_ pink ghost.

**_Leaderboard:_ **

**_Dumpling - 16’181_ **

**_Kris - 11’743_ **

**_JJ - 8’619_ **

**_…_ **

You walk away grinning, more tickets under your belt.

Time goes on, and within two hours, your groups reunite, counting your tickets with that one dispenser machine, which you have to spend a good ten minutes with the help of Buck, Lars, and Sour Cream to get all your tickets finished, otherwise it would take fucking _forever._

Once the cards with your ticket amount are dispensed, you total them on your phone and cackle like a madwoman, showing your friends your total.

**_21’396._ **

“Aw, what? That’s bullshit!” Lars groans, pouting while staring at his own meager 1’750, “What did you even do?!”

“Beat the leaderboards on the arcade video games.”

When the other three turn towards Sour Cream and Kiki, the pale male nods, and Kiki chuckles, “Yeah, she _completely_ blew the competition out of the water- you should have seen SC’s face when she kicked his ass in space invader! It was _hilarious!”_

“It was not!”

“Oh,” you smirk, “I beg to differ, my dear colleague~”

“Fucking die.”

“Wish I could.”

Walking up to Mr. Smiley- _‘what a strange name…’_ \- you all hand him your cards. Sour Cream got a super bouncy ball, four pieces of candy, and a giant stuffed penguin. He also, after a bit of thought, buys a yellow bandanna.

Lars, to your amusement, got a plush snake and inflatable hammer, playfully smacking you in the shoulder with it. Your snort of laughter just makes him do it again, which just spirals into another snort of laughter, the cycle continuing.

Jenny buys a shirt with a hermit crab that says “Shell Yeah Beaches”, as well as a few pieces of taffy.

Buck gets a plush of the famous “peanut butter jelly time” banana, as well as a new phone case.

Kiki is probably the funniest of them, buying a shirt like her twin, though this one is pastel pink with three cookies, all bitten, saying “Bitches ate my cookies”, a new phone case, and a $10 shopping discount card.

You just spend sixteen thousand to buy yourself a nintendo switch from the shelf, a pop youtube figure of Markiplier for two thousand, and the rest you spend on candy, getting twenty-two pieces in return.

All six of you walk you, everyone laughing loudly when Kiki grabs Lars’ hammer and swings it at him, electing a feminine shriek from the tall, skinny male. In an instant, he’s running away from the enraged female, crying out for someone named “Sadie” and “Rhodonite” to save him, which just enrages Kiki even more.

“Man, I can’t believe you won a switch,” Buck begins, leaning against the wall, watching the two goons rush around like chickens without their heads, “those things are, like, crazy expensive.”

“Oh, I didn’t win this for me,” you hand it to Buck, to his surprise, “this is for you. I don’t know if you have one, and we haven’t really talked much, but I think you’re really nice for what it's worth! Thanks for hanging out with me, it means a lot…”

Gently grabbing the red and white box, he stares at it for a minute, and turns his head, gently smiling, “Thank you… and I think you’re really cool too. Maybe I can get your number?”

“Oh yeah, give it to me and Kiki too, hottie!” Jenny pops up, grinning, “and Lars wants it too, but he’s… kinda _busy_ at the moment, if you haven’t guessed already.”

Smiling, you hand the two your phone, letting them type in their numbers, and shoot them a quick text for verification. Once they nod, you save them as “BigBuck” and “XJ9 Jenny”, and promise to text Lars and Kiki later when they’re given your number.

Sour Cream hugs you goodbye, and seeing as its almost sunset- wow, has it really been, like, seven hours? Yeesh- you leave towards your car, only to stop, “Hey, does anyone live down or near Hustle Lane? If so, I can drive you home.”

“Lars does,” Buck quips quietly, and you glance towards the duo.

Well, it's now or never, you suppose.

“HEY, LARS!” He stops, turning towards you, “WANT ME TO DRIVE YOU HOME?”

“Uh, sure lemme jus- KIKI _NO!”_

You groan good naturedly- this might take longer than you’d like.

\---

Twenty minutes later, the both of you are happily stationed in your car as you drive past Little Homeworld, already way past the inner-workings of Beach City.

“Hey, so why’d you move here, by the way? I meant to ask you earlier.”

Blinking, your eyes travel towards him through the mirror, quirking an eyebrow, “Eh? Why’d you ask?”

“Just…” he glances up from his phone, “...curious, I guess.”

“You _guess?”_

He shrugs, and you snort, “Uhuh, _right._ Well, I guess I can tell you- not like it's a secret or anything. Dad wanted me to ‘come back to my roots’, so to speak, since Gems are mostly in Beach City at the moment. Sure, some are moving out, but most stay in the city, right?”

Lars blinks confusedly, “I mean, yeah, I guess so. Haven’t really… I haven’t thought about it, honestly.”

“Yeah. So, with most gems here, and my mom being a gem, he decided we should here- plus, he got a job offering in empire city, and that’s only like a, what? Two hour drive or something? Anyway, we moved here for my heritage and… that's pretty much it. Maybe the scenery too, I dunno.” Your answer only seems to confuse him, but seeing as you don’t know much about it yourself, Lars drops the subject.

Instead, he moves to something else, “So… how’re you liking Beach City so far?”

You smile, “It's… nice- calm, I suppose is the word. Much better than Vancouver, that’s for damn sure! The humans I’ve met so far are nice; don’t know about the gems yet, though…” Lars turns towards you and blinks in surprise when he notices how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel, “...I don’t particularly _like_ Steven Universe right now.”

“Why?”

Your serene smile noticeably tightens, “Lets just say… he wasn’t particularly _polite_ when we ran into each other, and leave it at that.”

Seeing how uncomfortable you are, Lars drops the subject, and the rest of the drive is quiet. You drop him at a cozy, three-story house with an emerald green spaceship sitting beside it.

“Well, this is it,” sitting up, the pink male glances towards you, “I’ll see you later then?”

You grin, “Definitely!”

“Cool.”

He steps out of your honda, and when he gets by the sidewalk, you honk your horn, “YO, LARS!”

He turns, confused expectancy radiating from him.

Lips curl, showing straight, white teeth, “You want my number or not man?”

His pink skin flushes, though he certainly lights up, a smile taking up most of his face, “I thought you’d never ask!”

\---

With the newest number in your phone, you drive home, the sky dark enough you had to use your low beams to see the road- though, thankfully the moon was full and bright, so you had some extra light to work with, but still.

Pulling into the driveway, you hop out, grab your purse, and lock the car with the click of your car keys. Sighing, you enter the house, only to be met with your father and _whoo boy,_ did he look _furious._

“Where. Were. You?” He grounds out, tapping the padding of his furnished recliner, “You’ve been gone for _hours_ young lady!”

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your tie and run a hand through your hair, messing it up just a tad, “Geez dad, I just hung out with Sour Cream, no biggie! And I’m _seventeen_ dad, I’m allowed to be out until…” you glance at the old clock sitting along the wall, “nine thirty, okay? God, I’m not a little kid, lay off me.”

Archie steams at your casual dismissal of him, “Young lady, I am your _father_ , and you _will_ treat me with the respect I deserve! Don’t forget, I _raised_ you!” He roars, easily waking Nicholas and Minerva, if they _are_ awake, that is.

Whirling around on him in a single millisecond, hatred and disgust lighting up your gaze, “ _Raised me?_ ” You scoff, stomping closer, “ _RAISED ME?!_ Dad, no offense, but I raised _myself_ since I was _three_ because _you-!”_ you poke him in the chest, “-were too bent out of shape that mom vanished! Sir, I fucking _cooked_ for you until you met that _hussie_ in that _damned_ strip club! And what do you do?!”

You lean in, lips curled in disgust, “You _married_ her… I still love you, you’re my dad, but I know for a fact that mom would be disappointed in how far you’ve fallen. God knows _I_ sure am.”

Leaning away, you spin on your heel, twitching, forks, knives and spoons rising when you pass the kitchen, “I’m going to bed, don’t fucking bother me.”

And with that, the conversation ends with a slam of your door.

And another crack in your window of relationships.

\---

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING ANGY

OKAY SO IT TURNS OUT THAT I FINISHED THE SECOND CHAPTER, WAS ABOUT TO POST IT, AND THEN JUST,,,,

GOOGLE FUCKING **DELETED** IT.

_TWELVE THOUSAND WORDS._

_**GONE.** _

IN THE _**BLINK**_ OF A _FUCKING_ EYE.

YALL IM _SO_ FUCKING MAD AND I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS HAPPENED SKFJDKNFF I'LL TRY TO REWRITE THE CHAPTER AS BEST I CAN.

Imma try as best I can I promise :')


	3. Discord

Hey guys! I'm working on the new chapter (it's very slow going bc hhhhhh writer's block and school) so I decided, for others who don't know, to open my personal discord up for anyone wanting to stop my!

[Discord server link](https://discord.gg/GHhRtyK)

Come stop by and talk, I'd love to chat with you all more! :)


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